Jon and Winston fell asleep on the couch. Winston got some not-great news today at the cardiologist, so I took advantage and went upstairs for a couple minutes of being alone. I lounged and read a little bit, but when I went to fluff my pillow, something moved. I wiggled the pillow again and It scuttled behind the bed.
It was a roach.
I hate roaches.
You guys, I might have a messy house in this three-kids-and-one-is-a-newborn stage, but I am NOT roach-dirty. And It was on my pillow. MY PILLOW! This is what happens when it's almost cold enough for closed windows, but not quite, and Nate learns to slide the screens up and down. Naturally, they never get slid back down all the way.
I hate roaches.
I tried to consider forgetting I had seen It, but that's ridiculous. Some things cannot be unseen. I found It hiding in between the bed frame and the mattress, so, considering my bookshelf, I picked a book that was just thin enough. It was a Bible study on the book of Daniel. You guys, I was going to KILL this spawn of satan with THE BIBLE. I needed a win today and this was it. I aimed and JAMMED God's holy word down the crevice.
Only, the book got stuck and It got away.
So I stomped downstairs, grabbed the vacuum, hollered to Jon that there was a roach in our bed ("What? A roach? IN our bed?"... snore...), and clomped back up to take the entire bed apart. I contemplated how my husband had failed me as I pulled off the mattress and the box spring. I moved Winston's bassinet into the other room. "You have TWO JOBS, Butterfield. Paint the high spots on the walls and save me from roaches. That's ALL... nothing more do I ask of you..." I vacuumed crevices and hollows. At one point, I heard something go into the vacuum that I hadn't seen. Clearly it was the roach. I continued vacuuming to be sure. I sucked out under the nightstands and the rug, in the corners and behind the headboard. I told God that a partial win didn't count, because I didn't SEE the roach go into the vacuum, so I wasn't safe or satisfied. Maybe I could switch beds with one of the kids for the night.
I turned the vacuum off, wound the cord, replaced all the bed parts, and went to grab Winston's bassinet to put the room back together.
From the middle of the dark room, the roach winked at me. He was large and quite blatantly evil. I stared back. One more chance at that win. I grabbed a photo album and slammed it's full weight down on top of the roach, positive that I'd gotten It. It was so cathartic, that slamming. I even (not kidding) jumped up and down on the album to make sure he was good and dead. Then, I stood back, contemplating the book. What if it wasn't dead. What if (HORROR) I moved the book and something scuttled?
I moved the book.
It scuttled and I screamed, but stifled it. There is no crying in a holy war.
I was about to grab Jon's mandolin to crush it, but, thankfully for Jon, the spawn of satan scuttled away. I located it and tried to jab it with the vacuum, which was now plugged in and engaged like a heat-seeking missile. I missed. It ran. I cornered it again and, this time...
This time I sucked up that disgusting excuse for biodiversity and I watched It's hopes and dreams shrivel and die. I expected a rush of relief, but I was sure it wasn't actually dead... and now it was in my vacuum...
Now what? I left the vacuum running, so that it couldn't crawl out, but that wasn't much of a long term solution. I can't really go buying a new vacuum every time I suck up a bug, either. Therefore, I did the only rational thing. I threw the vacuum onto the front porch and informed my now-awake husband that he needed to change the bag -outside- before coming to bed.
And do you know what? He lived up to his purpose.
I love him.